


Comfort

by RipplesOfAqua



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bathing, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, implied reference to Bastien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RipplesOfAqua/pseuds/RipplesOfAqua
Summary: In tired moments, they find comfort from one another.
Relationships: Josephine Montilyet/Vivienne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChocoChipBiscuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/gifts).



“Imbecile,” Vivienne seethes, “foolish, incompetent man.”

The letter shivers in the wind before her, as if it senses the magic flame cursing through the enchanter’s fury. But no matter how long it sits under her glare, the words on the page will not rearrange themselves. 

_I am sorry, Madame, but we regret to inform you that the honorable Ferdinand de Chambrun is nowhere to be found. Our sources t—_

The parchment crumples in her palm. She has had enough, has wasted too much time already on false starts and dead ends.

And Vivienne _will not_ let this end in death.

With patience wearing thin, the rare crack forms in her composure, and she throws the offending item at the open window. It catches on the windowpane and bounces sadly back into the room.

Vivienne sits down hard upon her desk chair with a hiss, and thinks. Her fingers tap a staccato rhythm against the silence of her Skyhold study, as she mentally sifts through whispers and connections.

Where can they _be_?

Anywhere across Thedas, Vivienne thinks bitterly. All that knowledge, all that dedication, so much work over many lifetimes. Thrown away with the destruction of the Circles.

They cannot be gone, must not be. Surely the Tomes are hidden, tucked away somewhere safely. Did no one think of them when the rebellion sparked?

She must find them, bring back what’s left of her first home, her first family. She must save the home she has now, and the man who has stood by her side all these years.

But the secret, the long-lost recipe lies amongst forgotten pages.

Turning to her desk once more, she begins to write. Letter after letter, seeking any hint she can. Her hands grow cold as the hour grows late, but she cannot slow down.

A timid hand knocks at her door.

She does not respond

It knocks again, and then once more.

Vivienne rises, a stinging rebuke readied at the disturbance. She flings open the door and finds…

A tray of the sweetest-smelling cinnamon bread Vivienne has laid her eyes upon since she was a girl in Wycome. The smell brings a nostalgic warm to her stomach.

It is an impertinence, but it will do.

She whisks the tray from the wide-eyed serving girl, and slams the door behind her.

There is a note on the platter, in the delicate loops of the Ambassador’s hand. But _that_ can be dealt with another time. Because now, the warm flakes of pastry melt against her tongue, and she feels her hope return.

Perhaps the answer already lies within her. Why in Thedas would it not?

A second bun disappears from the tray, and then a third.

Her skills as an herbalist equal her skills as a knight-enchanter.

Vivienne strides over to her bookshelf and removes several of the oldest tomes. The carries them to the table and opens the dusty spines, searching for just the right ingredients.

She will make the potion herself, if she has to.

But the night grows even longer, and Vivienne finds herself hunched over her notes, ink staining her sleeves and a headache pounding behind her eyelids.

The world is dark outside her window. With no one there to see, she lets her tired head fall onto her arms. She will rest for just a moment, she promises.

She awakes to a heavy warmth upon her shoulders, and the gentle tickle of fur at her nose.

Her spine straightens as she whirls in her chair… and doubles over in pain.

Standing behind her, the Inquisition’s Ambassador clucks her tongue in chastisement, hands firmly against her hips.

Well _that_ is not to be borne. Vivienne straightens her spine despite the protests and levels her best icy glare at the impertinent woman.

“My dear Josephine, I didn’t hear you knock.”

Josephine’s frown deepens “I did, several times Madame, but heard no response.”

“Did it not occur to you, _Ambassador,_ that I might be asleep?” 

“Well yes, but—” Josephine mumbles something into her hand “—said you were working late. And if your window is as drafty as mine, you’ll need something to keep you properly warm. My hands would freeze if I didn’t keep a candle so near.”

“I _see_.” Was there anywhere in this castle free from spies?

Still, it will not do the let her discomposure show. And, she must admit, it is a sweet gesture. As often as Josephine lies in her political dealings, she is rather awful at it with those she cares about. A rare quality among players of the Game, though Josephine has always made up her own rules.

Vivienne sighs. She has come to value Josephine's company and judgment over the long months, a rare gem hidden in the icy middle of nowhere.

"Come, drink some tea my friend."

 _My friend_. She's had precious few of those in her lifetime, and fewer still who remain in this world.

"Why thank you, my dear. Sit with me awhile?"

A companionable hour's discussion chases the gloom from Vivienne heart. But it is not till she awakes the next morning, still wrapped snugly in the cloak, that she finds the scrap of paper left in the pocket?

What's this?

_F d.C may be found at 347 Place Remi, Val Firmin._

For the first time in many days, Vivienne finds a true smile tugging happily at her lips.

* * *

Josephine stares down at the scrolls piled atop her desk and buries her face in the palms of her hands. The table’s heavy oaken form stands tall under the weight, unbowed after generations in diplomatic service. But Josephine, a mere mortal, sags wearily under the burden.

You must stop saying _yes_ to everything, Josephine admonishes herself. But there is so much to be done!

A tentative knuckle raps upon the door.

“I am busy!” Josephine calls, willing the disturbance away, in a tone she immediately regrets. There is no reply, but the silence hangs heavy on her conscience.

Here she sits, safe in her tower while demons overwhelm every corner of the world. What right has she to complain?

A sob bubbles like liquid lead in her chest, but she ignores it with a shaky breath. The heels of her hands knead against her temple, but the ache behind her eyelids stays resolute.

Counting down from five, cherishing each tiny second as it passes, she fills her lungs and straightens her back. Pulling a missive from the top of the stack, she begins to read.

Ah… the Comte de Chatillon…

What an odious man. But still the work must be done.

The door slams open and a chill wind blows through, carrying Madame de Fer and a small army of clerks into Josephine’s office. Vivienne stands before her desk, with arms crossed and brows raised in disapproval. Josephine’s cheeks warm under the intense gaze.

“Come dear, there is urgent business we must attend to,” Vivienne commands with tenderness in her voice.

“But I—”

Vivienne quiets Josephine’s protest with a wave of her hand.

“They will handle it. You do too much of their job as it is. Let it be.”

“What-“

“ _Josephine._ ”

Vivienne’s eyes are warm and inviting, and Josephine sighs, temptation pulling at her heart. “What could be so important, Vivienne?”

“You, my darling.”

Josephine’s resolve melts into a helpless puddle, and she allows Vivienne to bundle her into the softest lambswool cloak she’s ever worn and lead her out into the corridor.

With the warm, steady press of Vivienne’s hand at her waist, Josephine allows her eyelids to droop and her head to settle onto Vivienne’s shoulder. She loses track of where they’re heading, overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of relief amidst the exhaustion. How long has it been since she’s allowed herself to be held like this?

No ship can sail forever, and Josephine has strayed from the shore for too long.

She is lucky, Josephine thinks, that _her_ particular shore is rather demanding whenever she’s gone to long without respite. Lucky for all the blessings Vivienne has brought into her life these last few years. She should find her some flowers, Josephine thinks, mind racing with possibilities. Frostvine orchids may be out of season but she knows someone in- 

“Stop thinking, my dear,” Vivienne chides with fond exasperation. “I can tell when those wheels in your brain are spinning quicker than they ought. You burn yourself out.”

Josephine sighs and burrows her face further into Vivienne’s side, hiding the deep flush that burns its way across her cheeks and down the tip of her nose. 

“Watch your step,” Vivienne murmurs, guiding Josephine down a winding staircase.

A heavy door swings open, revealing a hidden cavern lit by warm, golden globes of magic. The air is hot and humid from the steam drifting off the pool within. On the far side, beyond a thick stone rail, one of the many waterfalls below Skyhold falls thunderously down to the rock below.

Josephine looks up in awe.

“ _How?_ ”

She has never heard of this place, nor of its construction. Surely the Iron Lady’s magical prowess must stretch far beyond what Josephine is aware of, if she is the one responsible for such a masterpiece.

“I _do_ have my connections, dearest.” Vivienne’s smile is slow and smug. “And I daresay an intervention was in order.”

Josephine does not protest, for the water calls out to her aching muscles.

“You are a wonder, Vivienne.

“I know, darling.”

Josephine steps forward, undoing the silk scarf at her throat, while gentle fingers undo the buttons down her back. Layer after layer of silk and ruffle is peeled back gently and place onto a stone bench. And then, finally, _finally_ Josephine steps into the water.

It is blessedly warm, radiating comfort, and Josephine sinks into the bliss.

“Join me, mi tesora?”

Vivienne's skin is soft as it brushes against Josephine's shoulder, raising little bumps across Josephine's skin where her fingers trail. Vivienne wraps one arm tightly around Josephine, and Josephine lets herself relax into the embrace.

"This is long overdue, dearest," Vivienne says, her voice teasing, as she cards her fingers through Josephine's hair. "Next time, we do this at a proper resort. The waters at Val Colline are lovely in spring, or so I hear."

Josephine chuckles. "If you can pry me away from work, my love."

"Oh, now _that_ you can count on."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your prompts! I hope you enjoy, they were so much fun to write =)


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